Full Circle
by gnbrules
Summary: In the end, capturing Caffrey felt a lot like letting Neal go. Peter, post-Judgment day. Second chapter now added for Neal.
1. Full Circle

**Full Circle**

**Summary: In the end, capturing Caffrey felt a lot like letting Neal go. Peter, post-Judgment day.**

**A/N: So, this one is a result of a few different forces. Firstly, I felt the need to experiment a bit because my usual writing style just wasn't conveying the gravity of Judgment Day in a way I felt was right. One problem I was facing was that I was trying to write about Neal at first, and found myself repeating a lot of what was already in the episode, and while I haven't quite given up on that, it was time to give Peter a try. And last but not least, Min Daee's fic, Blur, set my brain on fire with inspiration even though it's not about the same thing. I also recommend Min Daee's Draw the Line, which_ is_ about Judgment Day and is also awesome.**

Peter Burke's been called a lot of things (the Suit, the Fed, and Mr. Satchmo all come to mind), but no one has ever called him stupid_._ Sure, he doesn't know much about the arts or history except as far as they apply to his job (still more than most will ever know), and he's never been able to outsmart a certain con (playing to his emotions is not the same thing and always felt a bit like cheating), but Peter Burke isn't dumb by any means.

He's intelligent enough, aware enough to see the parallels, the irony. They tend to mock him at every moment, and when he finally returns home after hours of interrogation (payback for the same treatment, a voice whispers), he rolls his neck slightly and stretches his muscles, trying to shake off the feeling of loss.

But it's sunk deep into his skin, and to cut it away now would allow nothing to remain.

El's been waiting up, of course, and she doesn't speak, though the tears in her eyes say so much more than words ever could. He knows she feels it too.

She hugs him tight, and for a wild moment, he has absolutely no strength and she's the only thing holding him up. They sit on the couch (he calls it Neal's couch, because that's where he first met El and Satchmo and inevitably snuck his way into Peter's personal life), and Elizabeth rubs a gentle hand across Peter's back. "Are you in trouble?" she asks finally, and he knows it's just too hard to ask about what matters, about the one who's _gone._

"They think I warned him, tipped him off."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

She isn't surprised, and he didn't expect her to be. She breathes in deeply, slow and sad.

"But they have no proof," he continues. "What I did barely counts, to be honest. A shake of the head and he knew to run." Peter almost wants to laugh, because it's absolutely ridiculous, that they know each other to the point of swift, silent communication. But after all these years, after everything, perhaps it shouldn't be surprising.

Three years of chasing _Caffrey_, three years of being partners with _Neal. _You learn a lot about a person that way. He knows Caffrey's shoe size, distaste of guns, preferred aliases. He knows Neal's favorite cereal, his hopelessly romantic nature, and he knows the subtle difference between a Caffrey smirk and a true Neal smile.

And he knows that Neal's always had this almost child-like faith in him to make things right, to make it all work out in the end. _The only one I trust..._

Peter feels like a failure.

Neal never should have had to run, never should have had to make that choice when he'd, for once, so desperately wanted to stay.

_The only one who could change my mind..._

They've been in this together for years now, as Burke and Caffrey, Peter and Neal. If one was ever without the other, it was only because one was trailing closely behind (usually Peter, Neal always seemed to be one step ahead). But through everything, through birthday cards and champagne delivered to a surveillance van, through second chances and the loss of Kate, through close calls and the distrust that's cropped up now and again, through doing wrong things for the right reasons and the right things for the wrong reasons...

It's just such a punch to the gut, that it must end so suddenly, and Peter can't fix it, wouldn't even know where to begin. _I'm sorry, Neal, _Peter thinks, even as Elizabeth coaxes him to bed. _But at least you're free._

Peter's not stupid - he sees the parallels, and in the end, capturing Caffrey felt a lot like letting Neal go.

Bittersweet.

The thing is, neither Peter nor Neal have ever been able to stand the taste.

**A/N: I had quite a bit of fun with this one. Reviews much appreciated, as always. **


	2. To Stave Off Morning Light

**A/N: A chapter for Neal, because, let's face it, you can't have one without the other. **

One shake of the head, and he's running now. Running because he knows what that shake means, knows that it's a goodbye.

It's the only one Neal's allowed to have.

It should be a consolation that it would be Peter's goodbye, approval, permission, but the thought just makes him feel hollow inside. He'd meant what he'd told Mozzie, what he'd told Peter, what he'd told those that were supposed to decide his fate. Neal had truly wanted to stop running, wanted to stay, wanted it all.

In the end, what he wanted hadn't really mattered.

He can't figure out how things got so _wrong, _or maybe he can and doesn't want to think about it, but now he's grabbing what he needs from June's place. He considers writing a note of thanks (he owes her so much), but there is simply no _time._ If there were, he would do so much more. He'd buy something nice for Elizabeth, an apology for causing her and Peter so much trouble and for taking Peter away from her so much. He'd take Satchmo for one last walk, June for one last dance. He'd tell Sara that he's sorry, that he loves her, that he wishes, wishes, wishes so much that he could turn back the clock and make them work.

But he's got the ticket and passport in hand now, and Mozzie's joining him, and they're stepping onto the plane together. Mozzie's watching him quietly but pretending not to; he seems to know that Neal just isn't capable of holding together a conversation right now. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he can't believe that he used to enjoy this kind of rush.

And now he's sitting on the plane, forced to stay still with nothing to do but think, think of what he's doing and where's he going and, more than anything, _what he's leaving behind. _As the plane takes off, he doesn't want to look out the window but he can't help himself. He says a silent goodbye to Peter and El, to his view from June's house, to the elevator at the FBI, and to everything else that made New York home.

It's all history now.

_Jones was right, _he thinks, not for the first time. _My life was a dream, with an anklet attached._

The tracking anklet is gone now, and his leg feels oddly light without it. He almost misses it, and only now does he realize what it meant to him. It meant that while he was not yet free, he still had a place to belong. It meant that there was something keeping him grounded. And most of all, it meant that Peter could always find him.

_Peter..._

An ache forms in Neal's chest, and he can see nothing but the face of his partner, his friend. Peter, who always had his back. Peter, who was able to forgive all Neal's past transgressions in the unprecedented belief that he could be someone more than a con, someone better.

It's what kept the anklet in place for three years now, but he's been forced to cut the cord. He will not be used indefinitely by Kramer, who neither trusts nor respects him, and who would so casually tear him away from the first real home he's had in years.

"Neal," Mozzie starts, and Neal wishes he wouldn't. He's not ready to talk about what's happening or the future or any of it. But Mozzie knows and doesn't push, merely states, "I'm going to miss them too." He pats Neal's shoulder, but the gesture is made awkward due to the airplane seating.

Neal pulls deep within himself, puts a lifetime of acting lessons into one scene, and forces his best smile. "It's okay, Moz. There's a life outside New York." he says, pretty words he wishes he could believe.

Mozzie looks at him, knows he's lying. Doesn't mention it.

Neal leans his head back against his seat and tries to fight the overwhelming sense of grief he's feeling. His stomach is unsettled and his head hurts and he wants so badly to just cry, but he has to keep it together, because the trip will be long. Mileage and distance matter when you're on the run.

Neal knows, now more than ever, that Jones was right: his life had been a dream.

But now it's time to wake up.

**A/N: For the life of me, I tried to make this long enough to satisfy. Reviews much appreciated. **


End file.
